


Nothing to Prove

by Anonymous



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bottom Bucky Barnes, M/M, Plot-What-Plot?, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Spit is not good lube, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 21:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17251976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When said asshole responded with "I'm not gonna take this shit from a pipsqueak who couldn't get it up if he needed to," Bucky knew he was in for an interesting evening.





	Nothing to Prove

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shinelikethunder (tenlittlebullets)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenlittlebullets/gifts).



If there was one constant in the universe, it was that Steve Rogers did everything that he could to defy expectations. As for Bucky, he didn't have much to complain about on that matter.

But when Steve got in an argument about 'common curtesy' with some greasy prick from the tenement across the way, and when said asshole responded with "I'm not gonna take this shit from a pipsqueak who couldn't get it up if he needed to," Bucky knew he was in for an interesting evening.

The thing about Steve was that the knee-jerk reaction he had wasn't rage, it was silent, stubborn, chin-jutting determination. Bucky could see the lines of tension running though his body, flexing but restrained.

"You don't got nothing to prove to me, you know" Bucky said low and soft to the back of Steve's head once they were safely within the confines of their rented room.

And he really didn't. Steve fucked him all the time, or at least the times when they weren't tangled into each other in the pile of quilts on the floor, hands and mouths and cocks up jammed perfectly tight against one another's like cogs on a machine.

Bucky reached out for a friendly tap to his shoulder, but Steve shrugged him off like a bee sting as he spun around.

A whole head shorter with eyes shy of tears and tripping over words like his too big shoes, Steve grit out "Easy for you to say. Half the neighborhood knows how good you are in the sack."

He was way in Bucky's space and getting closer. Close enough to grip both hands on him and either pull him into a kiss, or push him more than a few staggering steps back.

Bucky didn't. He looked away, looked down at his stockinged toes, ready to let Steve take and have whatever it was he wanted. Waited for Steve to make a move, and when he didn't, Bucky flicked his eyes back up. "You gonna do something about that, punk?"

That was it. Steve charged forward and all one hundred something pounds of bone and body collided with him, trying to wrestle him to the floor.

Bucky let him, let himself be herded, then tackled into their blanket pile.

"Quit ragdolling, Buck," Steve said, annoyed.

Bucky snorted an amused laugh that did nothing to ease lines from Steve's face, and tugged up at the hem of his shirt.

"Or what, Stevie?"

One shirt off. Two shirts off. Bucky went for the flies of Steve's trousers, but he was too damn slow and Steve's hands were nimbler, pushing Bucky's trousers and briefs off his hips. Hands warm on his sides, clothes scrunched to his knees with some wiggling from both of them. Then ankles. Then all the way off to the floor, socks coming away with them, too.

Naked, Bucky had a moment to assess Steve shirtless and towering over him, pining him down--but not really. Never more glorious than when he was worked up in moments like these. Both of them flush and wanting.

Steve's eyes slipped closed as he ducked down and married their spit wet lips, all urgent and tongue and teeth and moaning into Bucky's mouth.

His hand reached down, not woman-soft, but not like Bucky's calloused covered palms, trailed down to thumb at his Adam's apple, to trace spirals winding tighter and tighter across Bucky's bare stomach, hip bones, feather light and dancing along the contours of his pelvis.

Bucky couldn't kiss back hard enough, couldn't do anything more useful with his hands than rake at soft skin, clutch at tattered blankets. Wanted to sink his teeth into something, wanted to scream at him to touch him more, lower, harder.

Steve broke away and moved down, all the way down with his blond hair tickling the insides of Bucky's thighs and oh good lord that was warm and wet and flicking across his asshole.

Steve stayed down there for it seems like ages, licking kittenishly around the edges the delicate skin on his pubic bone and underside of his thigh--never Bucky's cock or balls, he was far too cruel-- or popping it inside of him in shallow little scoops and thrusts.

Bucky couldn't help but groan and beg a litany of please-please-please-Steve-I-please-I-need, vision hazy and all the blood is his body rushing to a single point that Steve never let him reach.

When it was too much, when it was nearly too much, Steve drew away again Bucky nearly whined when all but the hand laid skin to skin on his bare knee left him.

Clothing rustled, and then Bucky gasped as a firm, warm cock head pressed itself against him, just rubbing around and resting outside for a long moment.

Christ, the only thing more insufferable than Steve's stubbornness was his patience.

Steve started pressing in, slim but dry and infuriating slow. Then fucking him, giving it so shivery good and raw that Bucky's legs trembled around Steve's thin shoulders.

Bucky saw Steve's long lashed eyes began to flutter shut, and he fumbled to wedge his hand between their torsos around his aching dick and started to chase his edge, everything perfectly in place with Steve inside, above and all around him.

 Bucky mouthed his name near silently as they both came.

...

"Well Stevie, you sure showed that guy," Bucky said drowsily.

"Shuddup."

**Author's Note:**

> HTP server got way too fluffy and asked for this Not!Trash. So this happened.


End file.
